Holding my still-bandaged-limb (from fingertips to elbow, and six inches wide around my hand) up high, I walked through the therapist’s door. A benevolent-looking gray-haired lady, working with another patient’s wrist, looked up and said, “Well, what happened to you?” A bond at first sight. Her kindness was almost as healing as the therapy, and consistent to my last session in early August.

Thank you, Marian.

And my hand continues to improve, just like she and my doctor said it would.